


Pokemon FireRed: Despairlocke

by Atxdepboy



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Human/Pokemon Relationship(s), M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-09 10:45:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7798732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atxdepboy/pseuds/Atxdepboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A written Nuzlocke - chronicling a descent into despair and smut in equal measure, as a young man from a poor community rebels against a rigged system. (It's a dystopian Pokemon journey, with M/M pokephilia and dark themes. Know what you're getting into.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything involved with this story. This is a fanwork meant purely for the purposes of artistic expression/wankery, and is in no way for-profit. It is based on a real Nuzlocke run that I am undertaking, and thus will be largely based on my play experience - hence a slightly looser, more disjointed feel. I appreciate any and all feedback.

Foreword: Thank you for your interest in this - let's say, 'unique' - piece of fiction. For a while now, I've been tossing around the idea of a written Nuzlocke playthrough that combines Pokemon with a dystopian, Hunger Games-style sensibility. After a while of putting that off, I came to realize what had been missing from the equation to really get me excited: depraved, kinky smut. So, the Despairlocke was born. Below, I'll outline the rules of the playthrough and give some background on the setting. If you aren't familiar with the basic rules of a Nuzlocke, I highly suggest you do some googling. In my opinion, it's the best thing that's ever happened to Pokemon. For the purposes of this playthrough, I will be playing a copy of Pokemon Ultra Violet, a romhack of Firered.

 

Synopsis: The country of Kanto. A land long-since past the point of destruction, now held within the grasp of The Elite - a totalitarian aristocracy, led by the ruling council known as the Circle of Lords. They exercise their will over the masses using the most powerful weapons of their world: creatures known as Pokemon. Using technology that allows them to control and manipulate these super-powered creatures, the Elite has gripped Kanto by the throat, with most of its citizens living in small communities known as "sectors", forced to live and die solely by the whims of the Elite, working themselves to dust on a daily basis for scraps. But the Elite is not without 'mercy'. They realized quickly that the best way to keep the masses under their boots was to pit them against one another - thus, the "Grand Tour" was created.

 

The premise was simple. Challengers from all over the country would volunteer to undertake a pilgrimage. The technology of the elite would be doled out to them, allowing them to tame and control their own Pokemon. With Pokemon at their side, they could travel the nation, attempting to prove their own strength by collecting tokens from testing centers known as "gyms", where their Pokemon would do battle against those of the Elite. Only one trainer, however, would be emerge victorious - collecting all the badges, defeating all challengers, and earning their spot among the Elite - and, by the same token, winning favor and supplies for their home.

 

A new Grand Tour would occur every five years. Days before the eighth Grand Tour would begin, a young man from Pallet Town - one of the poorest districts in all of Kanto, would be struck a crazy, reckless idea. He would enter the Tour. He would make his way through his opponents. And he would destroy the Council of Kings from within.

 

Rules:

 

1) The Elite works extremely hard to keep Pokemon out of the hands of most people. They have set-up checkpoints around the country wherein challengers on the Grand Tour can collect a single Pokeball. (Only the first Pokemon encountered on each route can be caught. No dupes.)

 

2) Pokemon are, as a general rule, a single-gendered species. (Only male Pokemon or non-gendered Pokemon may be caught. Many non-gendered may be assumed to be male, if they appear to be biological. Female Pokemon encounters do not count. Assume that any trainer Pokemon encountered that are identified as female have simply been mislabeled. For the purposes of this playthrough, I will also be disregarding strictly bird-shaped, fish-shaped, or insect-shaped Pokemon that I have a hard time envisioning a clear male gender for.)

 

3) Pokemon are sexual beings. Many reach it very early in their lives, while some only begin to express it after an evolution occurs. A Pokemon with needs left untended tends to become moody, aggressive, or disobedient. Most trainers will select a "beta" from their team, the weakest member, to accommodate the needs of their other pokemon. Some trainers, uncomfortable with the idea, have been known to accept this role themselves - though this is looked down on by most of society and considered a sign of weakness. (I will be writing many, many lines of Pokesmut for this one.)

 

4) The purpose of the Grand Tour is to weed out the strong from the weak. When a Pokemon Battle occurs between two challengers, any Pokemon defeated are confiscated by Elite enforcers that will be summoned to the site of the battle. This rule has several sub-sections. (All fainted Pokemon must be released.)

 

4A: Defeated Pokemon fall within three grades: A, B, and C.

 

A-Grade Pokemon: Considered prime genetic specimens, and will be preserved for further use by the Elite - likely as breeders in their Pokemon mass-production farms.

 

B-Grade Pokemon: Considered inferior, as their loss in battle is taken to indicate a lack of strength or character. They tend to be sterilized and converted by the Elite to serve whatever labor or burden they're deemed most suitable for.

 

C-Grade Pokemon: Considered useless, Pokemon within these category tend to be the rare non-gendered species. They are destroyed on-the-spot.

 

4B: Trainers are expected to provide defeated Pokemon one final instance of sexual release before they are confiscated - either with their team's "beta", or by themselves, if they choose.

 

5) The Grand Tour is not without its risks. Any challengers who participate in the Tour who then have all of their Pokemon confiscated will in-turn become enslaved themselves, becoming the property of the trainer that defeated them if they so wish. (A team-wipe is game over.)

 

5A) If a trainer finds rule 5 distasteful, they reserve the right to surrender their opponent to the Elite regime instead.

 

5B) A trainer can bow out of the Tour at any time, without penalty. Many trainers reserve one Pokemon at all times, so that a defeat in battle is not automatic defeat. (Any in-game trainers encountered without six full Pokemon can be assumed to be holding onto a spare.)

 

6) Pokemon trainers are strictly limited to carrying six Pokemon at once. No storage system exists for Pokemon, so any additional team members captured will need to be in-exchange for a current team member. (No box usage, except when first capturing 7th Pokemon. If it's going on my team, then something else is getting released.)

 

7) The above rules are for challengers only. The Elite are welcome to challenge those participants, and will not be held to the same rules.

 

Notice: This work will be highly adult, and may well incorporate themes and kinks that you find distasteful. I will do my best to label everything ahead of time, but please - if it's not your bag, don't read it. I'm not trying to offend anyone - I'm writing because its fun and gets me hard. I hope you enjoy undergoing this journey together.


	2. Chapter One: A Wager, Once Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter of our sordid tale - wherein our protagonist throws himself into the deep end, and someone sinister takes an interest.

Pokemon FireRed: Despairlocke

 

What struck him was the heat. The overbearing, sickly scent. The roar of air blasting about him, ripping away his clothing, biting into his skin. He blinked through the pain, staring up at the apex of the mountain. The road to Victory Road wound through the rocks and crags, the fire from the peak rolling in heavy, pulsing waves with the beat of his own heart. He gripped tightly against the jagged rocks, struggling to pull himself just a few feet further. Each pulse brought the same voice to the back of his mind.

 

“How far are you willing to walk, boy? How far? How far?”

He threw his head back, howled out. “Further!” And then, he woke.

 

\- - - -

 

Reed had lived in Pallet Town his entire life. His father had lived there his entire life, short as it had been. His grandfather had remembered a time before Pallet Town, but by the time that Reed knew him it had been unclear what came from his mouth was legitimate insight, and what was simply someone else’s memory he’d co-opted. For eighteen years, he’d looked out over her slums, her squalor - watched as her people struggled, starved, and suffered for the amusement of their ‘betters.’ So many of them had accepted it as the way of things, a cruel reality of life led in Kanto. Reed had never accepted it. Reed had been waiting for this day for five long years. The start of the Grand Tour, the first he’d be old enough to participate in.

 

He woke with a start, the same way he always did when the “climbing” dream came, bolting upright and nearly slamming his head into the bunk above him. He could hear Luca sleeping soundly above. The boy was chubby, and had already developed a fierce, bear-like snore. It was early. The ceremony wouldn’t start for another three hours.

 

Careful to avoid making the bed creak and waking any of the other three children sleeping in the room, Reed slipped from beneath the sheets - creeping across the floor to the dresser that they shared - sliding open the drawer that belonged to him and dressing in the dark. He was a slight young man - soft-features, baby-faced. Unlike many of the townsman, he’d never truly gone hungry - though his face did carry the somewhat stony look of one who’d lived hard. His clothes were thoroughly worn, but functional - mended dozens of times over by considerate elderly neighbors. He reached up to run a hand through his straight black hair, before shoving a ball-cap over it, nodding once in the dark.

He crept out of the room and down the stairs like a cat. With nine of his family members all living under the same roof, he’d gotten quite good at moving quietly and remaining unseen, unheard. The dust hanging in the air was illuminated by strands of moonlight from the holes in the roof. He carefully tip-toed around the strategically-placed pots and pans, left there from a few nights before when the rains had come. Soon, his uncle would boil the water and run it through a purifier. Other priorities had put that particular project on the back burner, unfortunately. The house itself was cramped with the contents of three different families’ lives all crammed into one space. Two sets of aunts and uncles, along with their children. Another Uncle, single. And him. His mother didn’t stay here, anymore. She hadn’t in a long time. It was deathly still and quiet, broken only by the occasional loud hum of an enforcer’s speeder zooming through the sky in the distance.

He made his way to the front door, silently undoing the deadlock, before sliding out into the night.

“You’re up early.”

The voice nearly made his heart stop. His hand shot out to grip the railing of the wooden porch that wrapped around their home, instinctively ready to vault over. “Haden, for fuck’s sake,”

 

His uncle leaned against the railing nearby, a cigarette forming an angry red light in the dark, barely an inch and a half from his lips. He smoked them down to nothing. He didn’t have much choice. He put it out against the wood.

 

“We talked about this.”

 

“I don’t know-”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, don’t be a shit.”

Haden rolled his shoulders. He was in his early thirties, but looked far older. His eyes were sunken. The stubble that covered the entirely over his face had flecks of grey, as did the chest hair peeking up from underneath his ratty shirt. He tucked what remained of the cigarette into his shirt pocket, shaking his head.

“You promised me. You promised your ma-” He frowned, seeing the dark look that overtook the boy’s face immediately. “Go back to bed.”

 

Reed ignored him, releasing his hold on the railing. “Which one are you gonna pick today?”

 

The older man reached up, scratching a dirty fingernail through his stubble. “Probably the fire lizard. Heard it gets wings, if you play your cards right. Always did want to fly.”

As if on cue, a speeder nearby buzzed past - a spotlight falling from it over some nearby houses as it passed. Reed raised a lazy finger towards it.

“Could always be an enforcer.”

Haden snorted, before spitting over the railing and into the grass.

 

“Right. Anyway, I’ve seen some of the pictures. It’s a cute S.O.B.”

 

The dark look passed, and Reed smiled softly, shaking his head, before moving to step off the porch. Haden’s voice followed him.

“I mean it, kid. Whatever you’re thinking of doing today, you need to drop it.”

The young man turned, his expression unreadable as he walked further into the dark. His studied his Uncle’s face. Haden was his mother’s youngest sibling. The one who always shot straight with him. The one who understand him. And he knew that Haden understood, in that moment, that he was telling a hurricane to calm itself.

 

“Yeah, maybe.” He said, before walking out into the dark - not bothering to look back, to see his Uncle shaking his head, swearing under his breath.

 

\- - - -

 

.The sun just barely peeked over the trees, as the citizens of Pallet Town gathered in the square, men and women dragging their yawning children from their beds and dressing them in their finest clothes for the event. Even still, every single person in attendance looked shabby, even the governor. Poverty seemed to be contagious here, as when he’d been appointed to relocate and govern Pallet, he’d been quite wealthy. The middle-aged woman on his arm fared no better. Haden made no effort to meet the eye of his sister, Reed’s mother. There was nothing more to say, anymore. The only exceptions to the shabbiness were the square-jawed bruisers in crisp white uniforms, pokeballs on their belt and helmets pulled over their eyes. Them, and the man currently standing center-stage before a podium, adjusting his tie. He was a stocky one, in his mid-twenties - easily the most well-fed man currently in the town. Still, though there was softness at his gut and his face, his arms and legs quartered no question as to his strength. The muscle there strained against his crisp suit, as he smiled mirthlessly at the assembled crowd. He had a face like a Granbull - no kindness behind his eyes, all sagging frown. His head was closely shaved.

 

“Welcome, citizens of Pallet Town.” His voice was deep, but not booming. Far more practiced than that. The slightest hint at an accent played at the edges of the sound. “As I’m sure you know, you’ve been gathered here today to mark the beginning of the eighth Grand Tour, graciously sponsored by your Elite. Based on the tribute that your town offered, you have been allotted a single space within the Tour’s docket. I’ll admit,” he said, reaching up to wipe his brow, “we expected better. Especially given your town’s current hardships.”

It was a cruel joke. The town had relied on fishing to sustain it, but pollution from the mills on Cinnbar Island has weakened the local ecosystems. The village was suffering - and the only means of salvation they had was the Grand Tour. But buying slots in the tour cost dearly. A price that they could only barely pay, even for one - with no reason guarantee, or even hope of recompense. Haden stood in the crowd with his family, arm around his niece. He growled under his breath, quiet enough so that she couldn’t hear.

 

Suddenly, at least by his measure, someone familiar was standing to his right.

“You’re late,” he muttered.

 

Reed said nothing, reaching up to adjust his cap.

 

“This motherfucker is real long-winded, eh? Wish we could just skip to the end, everyone here already knows how it’s gonna go.”

 

Still, Reed said nothing. This was enough to make Haden nervous, though he didn’t push the point.

 

“Still, a showing is a showing,” the Granbull on-stage said, tapping the podium before him. “I assume that your town has chosen its representative. Before he or she comes on stage, I’d like to summarize the rules for you all - for those young ones joining us here for the first time, and for those of you who believe yourselves ready to volunteer. These are things you should be well-acquainted with.”

As if on cue, Reed and Haden clenched their fists at the same moment.

“This,” the man said, reaching into the pocket of his suit jacket and withdrawing a pokeball, tossing it onto the stage - the ‘crack’ sound echoing around the square as a burst of light surged forth, exposing a small, orange, bipedal lizard - standing roughly up to the man’s mid-thigh - it’s tail tipped by a small, healthy flame, “is a pokemon. It is one of the tools that challengers on the Grand Tour will use to prove their superiority.” The creature gave a loud, animal screech - before the man sneered, pointing the pokeball at it and pulling it back within, returning it to light. “Challengers will be granted one pokemon, of three available choices, to begin their journey. They will use this companion to help them travel the dangerous backroads of this, our fair nation. Designated stops around this country have been set up to grant them the tools to catch more. Their goal is to challenge the eight testing centers around the country, earning ‘badges’ as recognition of their power. If they achieve this, they will earn the honor of facing myself and other members of the Circle of Lords, to prove their aptitude and their right to serve as one of the Elite. If they are successful, the city or town they hail from will receive the full support of the Elite for the next five years.”

No one said a word. Everyone assembled knew the rules. Haden glanced sidelong, wanting to read his nephew’s expression. To his surprise, the boy was gone.

 

“However, this will not be easy. Participants may request challenges with new opponents at any time, for any reason. Such battles will be signaled with one of these,” he reached into the pocket opposite the one that held the pokeball, retrieving what looked like a particularly ugly watch - black metal, rounded red plastic on the face. “An enforcer will arrive via speeder within thirty minutes time. Any pokemon defeated in-battle with another trainer, or in a testing center, will be seen for what it is - weak- and it will be turned over to the Elite. Trainers will be give the opportunities for ‘farewells’ - but they will be rather brief. If a trainer loses all pokemon in this manner, he or she too will be considered forfeit - and property of the elite.” He nodded off-stage, where a pale young man stood - dressed in a white tunic, head bowed and shoved. One of the elite’s shock-collars around his neck.

“You may, of course, surrender at any time. As long as you still have one pokemon left, an enforcer will be happy to escort you to your home - and your spot will forfeit for the remainder of the tour. Now then, who will it be? Who from Pallet Town will make this place proud, will show the rest of the world what you are capable of?”

Haden felt his stomach clench. He took a deep breath, before raising his hand. “It’s me,” he barked out over the crowd, as the others glanced backwards and began to shuffle to the side, to allow him to pass through. “I’ve been chosen as this town’s representative. I’ll go.” He walked towards the stage, trying to look cool and confident, trying to convince himself that he had this under control. That he wasn’t afraid.

The Granbull smirked at him, making bile rise in his throat. “Very good, my friend.” The bile rose a little higher. “Please-” he gestured to the podium, in which sat a briefcase. “Open it. Choose your starting companion, so that they can see.”

Haden didn’t hesitate. He reached inside, unsnapping the clasps on the case and throwing it open - finding the one labeled “Charmander.” When he picked it up, he was surprised at how warm to the touch it felt. He pressed the switch in its center - allowing a burst of light and a creature that looked much that same as the one that the present had summoned earlier to appear on the stage. The assembled people clapped, for a moment, purely out of obligation.

“Very good, very good,” the present said, nodding, “I’m happy that we were able to-”

“Wait!” A voice cut through the crowd, and Haden felt his stomach drop. Reed came from the crowd’s left, rushing the stage, ducking under the arm of one of the enforcers. “I want to participate too. I want to be in the Grand Tour.”

“Reed,” Haden hissed through his teeth, jerking his head back at the crowd - his expression desperate. The best they could hope for, at this point, was that Reed would get a severe beating and learn some damn humility.

“I’m sorry, perhaps you hadn’t heard,” the Granbull said, his tone suddenly chilly. “Your town could not afford the tribute for two participants. Rules will be rules, you know. Perhaps you should find your family, before they miss you.” The threat was obvious, in his tone.

“And when have the rules ever applied to an Elite, eh?” 

Gasps came from the crowd. In that instant, Haden was certain his nephew was a dead man. And still, the boy just kept going.

“You can bend the rules, you do it all the time. So I want to make a wager - give me one pokeball. They only work once, right? I bet I can catch a pokemon in one throw, no weakening required. If it works, you grant me a spot in Grand Tour. If I can’t . . . I’ll obey the rules of the Tour. I won’t have any pokemon left. I know what will happen.”

 

Everyone in the square was silent for a long, long moment. Easily the longest of Haden’s life. He couldn’t see the man’s expression, as he stared the impulsive boy down, but he could hear when the man give a quiet laugh.

“Heh, alright. Fine. I’ll admit, you have me intrigued.” He nodded to one of the Enforcers, who approached the stage. “Hand this young man a pokeball. If he can catch himself a pokemon, let him compete.” He raised a hand. “Come on, boy. Lead the way. Show me what you can do. But remember - a wager, once made, cannot easily be taken back.”

 

Reed took the pokeball with hesitation, giving a dark look at the enforcer, before nodding to the man and hopping off the stage. The Granbull followed, signaling two enforcers to flank him. “Keep these people contained,” he muttered to another, before looking over his shoulder to Haden. “The boy belong to you, eh? Come along then, I think you’ll wish to watch.” The older man, to his credit, wasted no time in returning his Charmander to its ball and following suit.

The walked along in relative silence for fifteen minutes, further and further from the town square, until they came right up along the boundary to the town.

“You know, it quite illegal for a citizen to leave the confine of their home sector without permission,” the Granbull said, amused.

“Do you want to settle our wager, or not?” Reed countered, tone showing how deeply he detested the man following him. Haden felt his heart skip a beat.

Again, they were silent, as they neared a strip of trees just past the border, before finally stopping.

“I hope whatever’s out here is worth it.”

Reed turned, grinned, and said nothing at all. He took five steps forward, before giving a deep call from the depths of his belly, scaring a flock of nearby Pidgeys from their roost. But it wasn’t the Pidgies that had his attention. It was the grey-skinned humanoid that came from the tree-line. It was shorter than Reed, already fairly short himself, but not by much. It was naked, and corded with tightly packed muscles on a relatively lithe frame. A small, plump set of male organs bounced between its legs, looking relatively undeveloped. It strode confident, until it was a few feet from Reed. And, as if rehearsed, it stopped, dropped into a recognizably human fighting stance, and kicked a nearby clump of earth up, sending it flying off to the side of their small party.

 

“A machop, eh? I’m surprised to see one this far from a mountain range.”

 

“You ready?” Reed ignored the suited man entirely, voice calm and friendly. More friendly than Haden had ever heard it. He’d never imagined that this was where the boy has been stealing off to. Had he been feeding this thing? A wild pokemon that could easily have killed him? It made his stomach upset just thinking about it.

Reed, however, did not seem concerned. He retrieved the pokeball he’d been given from his pocket, giving one small look back at them, before giving it the lightest, most casual toss forward - bouncing it off the Machop’s chest. The kind of throw that wouldn’t even catch a sick Pidgey. The grey-skinned Pokemon grunted, but didn’t move, as its form was turned to light and absorbed into the ball. It didn’t even shake.

 

The party was speechless, save for Reed, who walked over to the Pokeball and picked it up, tossing it casually in the air.

“There we go, then. I believe I’ve bought my entry into the Elite’s tour.”

 

The suited man stared at the spot where the machop had been, his mouth stretched thin, before cracking into a smile. For the first time, the expression was genuinely. And profoundly unsettling.

“Not so fast. Being that you’re now a participant-” he reached into his pocket, withdrawing the Pokeball from earlier. “You’re obligated to accept battles from any challengers, especially Elites.”

Haden stepped forward. “Wait a minute, you can’t-” He was stopped by a solid blow to the gut from one of the white-clad enforcers, dropping him to his knees.

 

“I believe it was your charge here who said it best - I’m an Elite. I don’t need to follow the rules.” He twirled the pokeball in his hand. “What say you, boy? Ready for your tour to set a record in brevity? Ready to assume your proper place?”

The tone, lascivious and eager, made Reed’s skin crawl, but he betrayed no fear. He brandished the Pokeball before him. “Eager, even.”

The two men threw the spheres in unison, the grey-skinned Machop and bright-orange Charmander bursting forward in flashes of light, flying at each other almost as if by instinct. The Charmander, Reed guessed, was purely for demonstration - something to be trotted out for the masses to see. It wasn’t used to battling. His suspicions were confirmed when, rather than spitting fire, the creature instead charged - using its sharp claws to attempt to tear at the Machop. But its reach was shorter, and the Machop landed a square kick to its center - sending it sprawling away.

The suited man’s face twitched. “Charmander, play defense,” he said, voice perfectly calm. The Charmander picked itself up, growling and lashing at the grass with its tail, sending sparks flying. Machop wasted no time, charging. It was inexperienced as well. The charmander caught it unaware, digging into its thighs with its claws, raking along the length of its legs and leaving bright red streaks of blood as the Machop fell past it.

Reed felt his heart catch, his teeth grit almost painfully as his Pokemon stumbled to its feet, limping slightly. It wasn’t prepared for the Charmander to charge, pushing it back with a series of scratches, forcing it to stumble backwards. No time to react, no time to retaliate. More and more red streaks appearing on its skin. And then, it fell.

“Do it, Brax!” Reed’s voice surprised even him, how strained and furious it was. The machop fell - but to the side, not back. And with a twist of its hips, a foot hooked around - catching the Charmander in the side. The blow knocked the lizard clear off of its feet - sending flying head first into a nearby tree. When it hit, it dropped. Limp. Its tail still burned. Unconscious.

The Machop struggled to its feet, limping to Reed and falling against him. He caught it, wrapping his arms around it as drops of red streaked his clothing. “You did it.” Brax. It was a good name. At least he thought so. He returned the creature to his ball to heal, as the suited man walked over to the unconscious Charmander, returning it to his own.

“Aren’t you gonna give him to your friends here?”

The man turned, that same grin on his face - filling Reed’s stomach. “Remember what you said about the rules? No, I’m not done with this one yet.” He moved faster than Reed expected - mere inches from him in a matter of seconds - close enough to feel the man’s breath on his face. “I’m not done with you, either. I’m going to be monitoring your progress very closely, Mr. . .”

“Reed.” The man’s breath stunk, the scent of spices that sat too heavy on the palate. It made him nauseous.

“My name is Orson Drake,” the man said, his voice almost soft for a moment, before stepping away. “I’d suggest you remember it. You’ve made a powerful friend here, today. Now come, let’s get back to the gathering. I’m sure your town will be delighted to know that it has two champions.”

Unsurprisingly, the man’s tone did nothing to dissipate the ice water that had settled in the stomachs of either Reed or Haden. Reed, in particular, had never imagined that the word ‘friend’ could sound so poisonous.

 

\- - - -

 

“Stupid. Goddamn selfish and stupid, that’s what it is.”

“I had to.”

“The fuck you did.”

Haden was leaning against the railing of the porch, smoking the last dregs of his cigarette. His Charmander sat in the yard before him, its fiery tail wagging gently and lighting up the night. Brax the Machop sat a foot away, watching the tail lazily drift, almost hypnotized. “You put yourself in danger, today. More danger than you can even imagine. I can’t imagine what could have possessed you to do something so selfish.”

Reed sat on the steps, staring up at the sky. “What, so it’s selfish for me to, but not you?”

“That’s different. I don’t have people who depend on me. You have your mother, you have-”

“That’s bullshit.”

Haden was quiet, for a long moment.

“You can’t keep crucifying her for the choices she’s made. She did the best she could with what was-”

“No, I mean. It’s bullshit that - I mean-” He paused, before dropping his head. “I need you. You’re the only one here who understands me. And for better or worse, I’m committed now. So I’ll need you even more, going forward.”

Haden sighed. The last of his cigarette was gone. He flicked what was left away.

“Get some sleep, kid. We leave tomorrow.”


	3. Chapter Two: Darkness On the Edge of Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Reed makes a new friend, encounters a familiar enemy, and is confronted with some harsh truths about the world.

Four Hours Since Pallet Town:

 

Reed had never imagined that his feet could hurt this badly. The road north of Pallet Town - unwalked for at least five years, since the last Grand Tour, was all crags and sharp rocks, winding up a tall hill and through dense trees and underbrush growing over, sometimes making it difficult to even keep track of it at all. He’d never had to walk this far before - never even really had the opportunity. And though he said nothing, he could tell that it was starting to effect Haden as well.

 

They’d left early in the morning, before the sun rose, so that they could get to the dense treeline before the oppressive sun started to shine down on them. The family had rose to see them off, showering them with praise and affections, stuffing their packs with dried meats, nuts, and homemade salves. Each time he’d heard them say “be safe”, he’d flinched. It struck him as a stupid thing to say. He wasn’t doing this to be safe. He was doing it because there was no other choice. He was sure of it. He could reach Victory Road. He could win. He could tear the Elite apart.

There was nothing safe about it.

As they’d left, a few of the other villagers had gathered on the outskirts to watch them leave, shouting encouragement. He’d spotted her in the crowd. His mother, dressed in red, standing out against the crowd like fire in the dim early-morning. He’d met her eye, just for a moment. He’d nodded. There was nothing to say. And if he stopped, he felt like he might never start again.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Haden grumbled under his breath, reaching up to scratch at his stubble, betraying his discomfort for the first time. “Never realized how steep this was. It’s hard to tell, from so far away.”

Reed said nothing. He was listening. Suddenly, a rustle from his left. His arm shot out, gripping Haden’s bicep, stopping and silencing him. Another rustle. Reed didn’t hesitate, reaching to his belt and gripping the single pokeball they’d allotted him at the end of yesterday’s ceremony - leaning back and throwing it with all of his might into the grass, in the directly of the rustle.

A sharp, plastic crack - followed by silence. The two men stood, staring at the grass, before Reed’s shoulders slumped. He approached the spot where he’d thrown, brushing aside the grass. The pokeball had struck the root of a tree, shattering. No sign of a pokemon.

 

“Damn it,” he muttered, turning away - letting the grass spring back to cover the shards.

“You’re going to need to be more thoughtful, in the future. They don’t exactly give us a lot of those.”

Reed said nothing, pushing further on down the trail. Haden followed, toying at the pocket on his shirt, mentally debating a cigarette.

 

“I’m serious. You and I are the underdogs, here. Neither one of us knows what we’re doing, or what we’re up against. We have neither the advantage of brawn, or brains. And if you think ‘heart’ is going to-”

“Shut it.” Reed grunted, glancing over his shoulder. “Honestly. I’m well-aware of what a long-shot this is. I’ll . . . I’ll be more mindful in the future.”

Behind him, Haden chuckled. “Kid, mindfulness has never been your strong-suit.”

 

\- - - -

 

Ten Hours Since Pallet Town:

 

It was late afternoon, when they finally crossed over the ridge that separated Pallet Town from the rest of the world. To Reed’s dismay, a city already stretched beneath them. Viridian City. It’s name seemed almost like a mockery. The whole place was gunmetal-grey and rust-red. A blighted sore on the landscape. Massive buildings wrought from iron, crafted into inelegant grey rectangles, arranged in a grid. The path was clearer on the way down. It would take them less than two hours to reach the entrance.

 

“We shouldn’t go in through the main gate,” Haden muttered, leaning against a tree, studying the sight below. “If anyone down there knows we came from Pallet, it might cause trouble for us. We’ll look like easy prey.”

“What . . . what is this city ‘for’?”

 

Haden shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe it's not ‘for’ anything. According the old folks when I was a boy, cities and towns didn’t have to be ‘for’ anything. Let’s head down along the path, then cut to the side before we reach the gates.”

 

Reed merely nodded, clenching the Pokeball containing Brax tightly in his right hand.

 

\- - - -

Twelve Hours Since Pallet Town:

 

Sunset in Viridian City made the whole city look like it was on fire - the reds and oranges reflecting off of the metal buildings and radiating like a borealis. The sight gave Reed a headache. They’d managed to make it down to the town’s edge, and had crept along the fenceline until reaching a gap. Up close, they were surprised at how badly the town stunk. It was larger than Pallet Town by several degrees, and it smelled as if it was bursting at the seams with humanity. A sinking feeling settled in Reed’s gut, as they moved along the city streets - keeping as low a profile as possible, though the watches secured to their wrists identified them immediately as trainers.

The sinking feeling persisted, until they rounded a corner by one of the large metal buildings, emerging onto what looked like the city’s main thoroughfare. Then the sinking became a sudden drop.

Men and women. Some clothed, some nude, some stripped of gender entirely. Chained or collared. Dragged along in groups, or trotting behind individuals. Many weeping, but most silent. Viridian City, adjacent to Victory Road.

“This . . . this is where they keep them. The people who lose, and are given to the Elite.” Haden had never heard the boy’s voice take this tone before. This mixture of fear, and-

 

A well-dressed gentleman in a pressed suit was nearby, close enough to hear his voice. He was an older man, in his sixties, with a bushy mustache - watching as a naked man with a shaved head kneeled next to a horned horse-pokemon, brush in hand. The horse glowed brightly, its mane and tail wreathed in flame.

“I should let him kick you to death, you worm,” the older man growled. “You’re lucky I’m merciful. Get under him, satisfy him. If you do well, maybe I’ll change my mind.”

The slave trembled, whimpered, croaked. Reed realized that his voice had been taken. He crawled beneath the fiery horse, mindful of where its tail whipped back and forth. Shaking hands reached up, to a sheath beneath the beast, stroking there, coaxing a thick equine member from it. It must have been unbearably hot beneath the creature, as the slave’s skin shone with sweat. His eyes screwed up tightly shut, as he opened his mouth and guided the tip to his lips.

Reed was shaking. His knuckles wrapped around the pokeball were white.

“This . . . this was so close. Less than a day’s travel,and this abomination was . . . I . . .” He took a step forward. Haden didn’t hesitate. He gripped his nephew by the bicep.

“We have to go.”

“They can’t. I won’t let them.” Reed’s voice cracked. Fury bubbling out of them.

 

“We have to GO!”

 

“I won’t-”

 

Haden was larger and stronger than his nephew by a good amount. No longer able to stall, a calloused hand shot out over the boy’s mouth, silencing him and physically lifting him up, dragging his struggling form away from the sight, away from the main street. It was all he could do.

 

\- - - -

 

Sixteen Hours Since Pallet Town:

 

They’d made camp on the outskirts of Viridian. It had taken Haden nearly an hour to calm his nephew down, and even now he was sullen - staring into the small campfire they’d built. A thin trail of smoke drifted towards the sky, from the cigarette perched on Haden’s lip. He glanced sidelong at the boy, grunted, and flicked a twig into the flames. It was remarkable how much easier it had been to get a good campfire, with Charmander assisting.

“I figure tomorrow we’ll wake up early and split up, see what we can find. North of town is another checkpoint where we’ll be able to get some Pokeballs.”

 

Reed was silent.

 

“Look, kid. You’re gonna see a lot of bad stuff out here. A whole lot of bad stuff. You gotta learn how to deal with it fast, or you won’t have to deal with it for long, got me?”

Rich green eyes flicked up at him, before moving back to the fire.

“I’m going to kill them. All of them.”

Haden was quiet for a long moment, letting the words ring through his mind. He wanted to comfort the boy. Wanted to scold him, even. But he couldn’t find it in him. Not after what he’d seen today.

“Then get strong.”

What else was there to say?

 

\- - - -

 

One Day, Three Hours Since Pallet Town:

 

It had been a rough night. Sleep had come to Reed fitfully, if at all. He wasn’t used to camping, and the sights that he’d seen earlier that day wouldn’t leave his mind. Still, it felt good to be away from Viridian and its stink. He and Haden had gone to the checkpoint extremely early in the morning, well before sunrise, and gotten the two Pokeballs distributed there. They’d agreed to meet up around sunset, in order to compare what they’d been able to catch.

 

As he pushed through the underbrush of the woods north of Viridian, he could see the massive shapes of the trees that made up Viridian Forest-proper looming in the distance. Brax trotted along behind him, occasionally reaching out with his grey hands to pluck berries from nearby branches. Occasionally, it would see a clump that it couldn’t reach - and would kick the trunk, shaking the whole tree and causing them to drop. Reed smiled. It reassured him to see his companion walking around freely. Made him feel safer than if he’d been alone. And out here, there was no real risk associated.

A twig snapped nearby, and he put his arm back to silence the Machop. Up ahead, a small purple rat emerged from behind a root, scraping dried leaves back behind itself, having apparently tended to its business a few seconds before. It was distracted. Reed grasped the Pokeball in his pocket, taking a deep breath. You were supposed to weaken Pokemon before you attempted to catch them, but the rat was small. Brax couldn’t do much to it that wouldn’t risk its health. He had no better options - he threw, giving the rat enough to time to do little more than squeak indignantly, before the ball collided with it, pulling it inside. It shook violently, to the point where it was all Reed could do not to run up to it and clamp it closed with his hands. Finally though, it ceased, giving a chime that sounded almost resolved.

Reed couldn’t help himself. He laughed, he whooped, he ran to the ball and held it up to instead it. His first real catch. Brax ran with him, lifting his trainer up over his head and laughing along with him, even if he didn’t understand why.

 

\- - - -

 

One Day, Seventeen Hours Since Pallet Town:

 

The road east of Viridian City, heading towards the entrance to Victory Road - the path to the Indigo Plateau, consolidated seat of the Elite’s power - could not have been more different from the one that connected it to Pallet Town. It was immaculately paved, experiencing perfect upkeep from a veritable of army of slave-workers. They were gone, now - the moon was nearly reaching its apex for the night. Haden had heard rumors in the city that rare pokemon were known to be sighted along the edge of the road. He and Reed had left the campsite to investigate, under cover of darkness.

 

Reed thumbed at the pages of a book roughly the size of an old-world paperback, squinting at it, trying to make out what he could in the dark. “A Beginner’s Guide to Pokemon Training.” Haden had found a copy in a dumpster, and the two had poured over it for the better part of the evening. WIthin, they’d learned that Brax would eventually be able to evolve - and that Okie, the rattata that Reed had caught earlier, would as well. Haden, meanwhile, had spent the better part of the day finding out what he could about the best path to proceed - all signs pointing towards Viridian Forest as the next stop on their journey. He’d also managed to catch his own second Pokemon, a pidgey.

 

“I think someone was bullshitting you,” Reed mumbled, staring out into the distance. The road was built right on the edge of a plateau, with a cliff flanking it on one side. Across the valley below, lights from an immense mountain shone down upon them - a golden fortress in the distance. The sight made Reed feel tiny. He stopped, staring into the lights, firsts balled.

 

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

The voice made Reed’s blood run cold. Walking down the center of the road was the unmistakable silhouette of Orson, the man who’d challenged him earlier. A member of the Elite. He was dressed, as before, in an impeccable suit - that did little to mask the fact that his face belonged on a brute. Reed turned to face him slowly, eying him immediately with the wary stare one might reserve for a wild Charizard.

“How the hell did you find us out here?” Haden asked, voice calm - but sounding just as wary as Reed looked.

“Simple, isn’t it? We don’t affix you with those watches purely for your own benefit.” He tapped on his own wrist, which was bare. “You may run along now, old man. I’m here to speak to Reed.”

“The hell-”

 

“It wasn’t a request.” The stocky man brushed a hand over his front knocking his suit jacket back slightly - exposing the six pokeballs on his belt. The threat was explicit. If he wanted to, he could challenge either of them to a duel right here - one they couldn’t possibly hope to win. Haden taking a step back seemed to do little more than prompt Reed to step forward. The older man eyed him nervously, before turning on his heel and beginning to walk down the road away from them, realizing how powerless he was in that moment.

“What do you want?” His voice was low. Orson couldn’t help but grin at the fear lingering in the back of it.

 

“Why, I thought you’d like to know about my new project. See, I’ve grown rather bored as of late. You . . . showed me something unique, in that little hovel you call home. I saw the opportunity for a game, of sorts. I’ll begin my own Pokemon journey. Just like yours. I’ll collect and train until I beat you in a fair fight. And when I do-” The grin that followed made Reed actively nauseous. “You’ll come home with me. My little pet.”

 

“Eat shit.”

 

Orson smirked, withdrawing two Pokeballs. “That’s the spirit. It’s no fun if you give in too soon. Come on, let’s battle. I want to see if that grey-skinned joke of yours has gotten any stronger.”

 

Without waiting for an answer, he threw one of the balls, releasing a Pidgey in a burst of light. By the confused look in its eyes, it must have been freshly caught. Reed didn’t hesitate either - throwing his own. Okie emerged, scratching himself behind one ear.

“A rattata? How quaint. I hardly ever see them anymore at the Plateau. Pidgey, blind it!”

The small bird flew up, looking around and flying back down level with the ground - attempting to kick dirt up at the rat. But it was a miscalculation - the road’s paving was too fresh, there was barely any debris to kick up. Not that it mattered much to Okie, who dodged out of the way effortlessly. After catching him, Reed had wasted no time in setting to work to see what skills he possessed. To his surprise, the purple rat was capable of immense speed in small doses.

“Okie! Quick attack, let’s go!”

The rat didn’t need to be told twice. It held its ground, waiting for the pidgey to circle again, to come in for another attack. As it swept lower, he struck - leaping up to sink fang and claw into the bird and drag it down to earth, where it collapsed in a ball of feathers.

“Impressive,” Orson said, rolling his shoulders. “Truly impressive. But perhaps a rematch is in order.”

To think that he was mentally in-sync with the degenerate would have disgusted Reed. But even still, he instinctively knew what the man wanted, and he was happy to comply. Brax was on the field at the same time as Orson’s Charmander, having to dodge to the side of a burst of flame just as soon as he materialized.

“Burn him up,” Orson said, casually, arms crossed behind his back - watching as the Machop was forced to dodge and weave around the bursts of flame - which lingered upon the road for a few seconds, before dissipating. The Machop had taken no damage, but the effort was starting to show regardless.

“Focus, Brax. You can do this!”

 

The Machop continued to dance about the flames, its gaze going hard, its movements precise. Two more jumps, to more gouts of flame. Then it was rushing forward, rushing straight through one of the shots, landing a kick directly to the center of the Charmander’s chest. All four participants in the battle realized it immediately. It was a harder kick than any of them thought Brax was capable of. It lifted the Charmander off its feet, knocking it to the side. It flew. Brax, even knowing the creature was his enemy, reached out to save it.

 

But he wasn’t fast enough. The Charmander flew to the side, across the road, and out over the cliff. It screamed, as it tumbled down into the dark.

 

All were silent, for a moment. Then, a chuckle pierced through, turning into a laugh.

“Hahaha, I can’t believe this! Incredible.”

Reed said nothing, his eyes locked on Brax, whose shoulders shook. The machop stared at his own feet.

 

“I have to say, it’s been years since I lost a Pokemon. I’m genuinely impressed. You really are one to watch out for, you-”

“Shut up.” Reed said, his tone dangerous. “Shut the hell up, and get out of here. That was your Pokemon, it trusted you, you don’t even-”

“Hey, maybe don’t take the moral high road so soon, Reed.” Orson dusted himself off - pulling out the Pokeball that had belonged to his Charmander and tossing it over the edge after its former occupant. “You're the one traveling with a killer. Until we meet again, Reed. Let our next battle be as exciting as this one.”

And with that, he was gone, walking down the road in the direction of Victory Road.

 

Reed continued to stare at Brax, his heart pounding in his chest. Without a word, he closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around the Pokemon’s shoulders, pulling him close and hugging him tightly. He didn’t know if the creature was really intelligent enough to understand, but it didn’t matter, ultimately.

He needed this, too.


	4. Chapter Three: Strays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reed and Haden make two friends in the woods, and the horrors of the Grand Tour become clearer. 
> 
> Brax just wants to get some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy it. If you like what you're reading, let me know in a comment, review, or private message.
> 
> Cheers.

CHAPTER 3: STRAYS

Four Days, Three Hours Since Pallet Town:

Reed had never imagined that it could be this dark during the daylight hours - the dense canopy of Viridian forest offering what was, at first, a welcome respite from the brutal sun on their brows. Now, though - he was starting to see the downside. The cool darkness protected them, shielded them from sight from the Elite speeders that passed above and the metaphorical vultures who circled the main highway that passed through the forest, eager to pick off trainers who were foolhardy or overconfident enough to travel on the roads. But it shielded danger from view, as well. Brax moved in a circle, pivoting on his heel as he dodged out of the way of a beedrill's stinger, the poisoned tip carving through air and then sinking into the peeling back of a nearby tree. Brax wasted no time, throwing his hips into a kick to the insect's side, sending it tumbling through air away from him. His instincts were getting better, he was learning how to use his prodigious strength. Even still, it was obvious that the insect was barely affected by the blow, straightening itself in the air and turning, intending to take another pass. 

"You gotta focus on it's wings! Kyne, scratch them apart!"

Leaping from a nearby stump, sailing through the air with claws extended, came a sphere of tan fur and corded muscle. Pig-snouted and glaring, the mankey caught the beedrill by the wing, tearing through the fibers of its wings, sending the insect spiraling to the ground. The mankey wasted no time in descending upon it, tearing into its body. Reed grimaced, turning from the sight, holding his hand out to get Brax to come to him. The machop hesitated for only a moment, staring at the violent display, before complying. 

"Enough, Kyne." The mankey's trainer held out his pokeball, returning the creature to it in a flash of light, leaving what remained of the beedrill to slowly stream its neon-yellow contents over the grass. He was a handsome young man, tall and slim with a swimmer's build. Another young man roughly his age approach from behind, clasping him on the back. He was a bit more portly than his friend, and had a smile that Reed found off-putting. It was insincere - it reminded him of Orson. Contrasting Reed and his uncle, the two were well-groomed and well-fed. The mankey's trainer went by Bruce, and his friend went by Donnell. They too were new trainers, participants in the Grand Tour and residents of Viridian City, part of the section of free non-elites who helped maintain the slave processing centers. Reed had been intensely opposed to traveling with them through the forest. Haden had overruled him. 

"Jeez," Donnell muttered, his voice inflected with the slightest whistle of air between a gap in his front teeth. "You gotta get that thing under control."

"It's fine," Bruce said, walking forward and nudging the dead insect with the toe of his boot. "He's just pent up. We'll need another session soon. Once we get through the forest." 

Reed patted Brax on his head, before moving to Haden - leaning against a nearby tree, keeping wary of any more surprises with his charmander's ball in his palm. He hadn't smoked since they'd entered the forest, and the way his jaw was drawn up tight showed it. He was annoyed. "Fucking beedrill." He called out, a bit louder. "How much longer do you think we'll be in here, anyway?"

"One more night should do it," Donnell said, pulling a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket and glancing at it. Even the way they were dressed set Reed's teeth on edge. Viridian City's non-elite lived far beyond what those from Pallet could ever expect. Bruce and Donnell wore well-made hiking boots, thick coats, carried well-made packs with multiple pockets. They made Reed and Haden, in their foot-wraps, their worn t-shirts and frayed pants, look like vagrants. Which, Reed supposed, they technically were. The only thing that connected the two pairs were the watches on their wrist - that identified them as trainers. 

"So eager to leave your new best friends, Haden?" Reed muttered, low enough so that the other two couldn't hear. 

"Don't be a shit," the older man grunted, shaking his head. 

Haden had maintained from the beginning that as participants in the tour, they had no choice but to recognize who the real enemy was. The last few days traveling with them had been an exercise in paranoia for Reed. He knew that he could be less-than-friendly, knew that he could be a complete ass on-occasion. But his uncle's willful refusal to see the difference between them seemed, to him, to be bordering on madness. Still, he kept quiet. And kept Brax close to his side.

\- - - -

Four Days, 16 Hours Since Pallet Town:

They had to keep the campfire low, out here. Otherwise they risked giving away their location to anything lurking out in the dark. Or setting the whole forest aflame. Reed sat as close to it as he could, resenting Haden for being able to keep off in the dark by himself, the heat that his charmander radiated more than enough to sustain him. Bruce and Donnell sat opposite him, while Brax’s footsteps cracked twigs behind him, the machop poking about the underbrush. He’d taken to letting him do whatever he liked, when they were camped. He trusted him to not get in-trouble. 

“ What I’m saying is, you just tip your hand when you carry them like that,” Bruce said, idly flicking small twigs and pieces of grass into the fire. It was part of an argument that he and Reed had been having on-and-off all afternoon. Donnell stared into the fire, eyes glassing over. “For fuck’s sake.” he muttered, clearly tired of hearing it.

“Why would I not want to show what I have? Anyone who’s interested in picking a fight might be discouraged if they know I have more than one.”

Donnell snorted, and Bruce waved his hand dismissively. 

“Everyone has more than one. Everyone who’s anyone. That’s not how this works. Have you ever fought another trainer?”

Haden shifted a bit, looking like he might say something, but held his tongue. Reed’s expression darkened. “Nothing . . . nothing official, really.” 

“Well, then you need to know this - the challenger sets the terms of engagement. They choose the minimum number of pokemon to enter in a fight. If they think you only have the one, they’ll only set it to one. Worst case scenario if you lose, you lose one of your pokemon. But you’ll still have others on-hand. It’ll keep you from-”

Haden coughed loudly, and the four of them went silent. 

“You grew up in that place,” Reed said quietly, staring into the fire. “You saw it every day. What they do to people. How could you stand it?”

Bruce frowned, reaching a hand up to drag it back through his thick brown hair. 

“You get used to it.”

Reed gave a single, dark chuckle. “Especially when it means you live so comfortably.”

“Kid, easy.” Haden called out. 

“Fuck you.” The words were dark, any playful edge hidden beneath hot defensiveness. “Don’t get high and mighty. If you could trade places, don’t pretend like you wouldn’t.”

“The hell I-”

“And besides,” Donnell said, finally speaking, “its not like Pallet Town is the only place where people lose the ones they care about.” 

Reed’s shoulders slumped slightly. The reason for Donnell’s smile seeming insincere. Perhaps he’d misjudged it. 

 

They were quiet for a long while, before the sound of grunting came from behind Reed. He ignored it at first, imagining that Brax had likely found himself something to eat. Donnel’s strangled guffaw, followed by Bruce’s wide eyes and laughter and Haden’s surprised noise, somewhere between a chuckle and a gasp, was enough to disabuse him of this notion. He turned, his own eyes widening and his cheeks turning pink. 

Brax leaned against a tree, facing them, his head bowed so that his chin was touching his chest. A grey hand was wrapped tightly around his penis, stroking it feverishly, his eyes screwed up in concentration. The foreskin which wrapped around it moved up and down in time with his strokes, causing the pink-hued head to poke out as he self-pleasured. Somehow, Reed had simply gotten used to the pokemon’s nudity. Even if he had a more humanoid shape, it wasn’t really any different than seeing an animal’s genitalia, at least as far as Reed was concerned. Now though, seeing the machop in such a recognizably human position . . .

His hands were on the machop’s pokeball faster than even he had realized he could move, Brax giving a startled cry of “-chop!” before bursting into light and being pulled inside the ball. Reed exhaled, his heart pounding as he turned back to the fire and slumped. The laughter from the Viridian trainers continued. 

“Wow, haha. I guess your guy there has gone a little while, eh?” Bruce wiped an errant tear of laughter from the corner of his eye. “Seriously, you need to take care of that.”

The pink in Reed’s cheeks grew a little stronger. “A-and what am I supposed to do about it? He’s never done that before.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Really? Huh. Must just be starting to come of age. You’ll probably wanna choose a beta, soon.” 

Reed did his best to mask in his expression just how clueless he was, and how embarrassed he still felt. “Beta?”

From the nearby tree, Haden grumbled something under his breath. 

“You seriously don’t know? They really don’t teach you much about Pokemon, in Pallet town.” Donnell cleared his throat. “Look you know that Pokemon are smart, right? Smarter than normal animals. Well, they’re also . . they have needs. Just like people, only more than people.”

“Most people,” Bruce snorted. 

“Most people. Certain species need it more than others, Especially as they evolve. Your boy there, he seems like he needs it less often than many. He might evolve into something someday, and that might change. Bruce’s mankey, for instance-”

“Horny little bastard,” Bruce said, nodding.

“But what do they . . . I mean, in the wild. There’s only one in a hundred Pokemon ever born female, and the Elite snatches those up as fast as they can.” Reed glowed for a moment, remembering the fact he’d read in the guidebook that Haden had given him. 

“Well . . . yeah. So they usually just find weaker males to do it with.” 

Reed felt his stomach clench. “What?”

“Yeah, that’s what I meant by a ‘beta’. The weakest pokemon you catch, one that can be used by the others,” Bruce added, tapping the pokeball on his hip. “In addition to Kyne, here,” he reached into his backpack, pulling out another. “I have this rattata. Every once in a while, I let them both out and, well . . . but it’s necessary, y’know? Pokemon that don’t get release become ornery, they lose focus in battle, eventually you won’t be able to control them at all.”

“But what does the rattata think of all this?”

Bruce hesitated, then shrugged. “Can’t say. Imagine he hates it. But it’s the way of things.”

“But that . . that’s not right. You can’t just force it to accept that, that’s fucked up.” He gripped Brax’s ball in his hand, images flashing across his mind of the machop pleasuring itself. Then, of Okie - fierce and fiery. His stomach clenched again. 

“Well, the only alternative is to take care of it yourself,” Bruce said, sniffing in disdain. “I’ve heard some people do it. Deviants, and the occasional girl that manages to undertake the challenge. But that’s the worst case scenario.” 

Reed said nothing. An hour later, he rose to piss. Haden followed suit, and they stood next to one another, releasing their water against a nearby tree. 

“For the record, I’m proud of you. You learned how to recognize an injustice done when you see it. Can’t ask for much more, in this world.”

 

Reed was quiet, tucking himself back into his pants and nodding. A quiet, simple “thanks” was all he had to offer. 

\- - - -

Five Days, Nine Hours Since Pallet Town:

Things had gone so wrong, so fast. After three days in Viridian Forest, avoiding fighting with anything but the occasional beedrill swarm, Reed had almost convinced himself that he they were in the clear. Just as he’d thought it, as if someone were waiting for it to pass through his mind, they’d heard a scream from nearby. A young man’s scream. 

“We shouldn’t,” Haden said, cursing inwardly that he was so standing far away from his nephew, that he couldn’t reach out and grab his arm. 

“We -really- shouldn’t,” Donnell added. 

But Reed and Bruce were already off, ducking through the underbrush and leaping over roots. They managed to find their way to a clearing. Reed’s heart sank, instantly. Three trainers leaned up against nearby trees, while another sat on a fallen log near them. It was obvious immediately that the one sitting on the log, the youngest by several years, had been making the noise. An ambush. 

“Well, well. We have some good samaritans, here.” 

One of the leaning trainers stepped forward. “Good afternoon, gentleman. I hope you found your journey through the forest relaxing. I’m afraid that up ahead, all you’ll find is some real bad times. That’s why we’re out here, get it? To save new trainers a bit of trouble - and Brock, too.”

Reed raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t familiar with the name. “We’re not looking for a fight.”

“Hey, neither are we.” Another of the trainers stepped forward. They were all older, in their late thirties. They looked rough, grungy. Poor in the same way that Reed and Haden looked poor - like they’d been that way all their lives, and had long-since accepted it. “So tell you want. I see you, little guy, you have two different Pokemon.” Reed cursed himself for not following Bruce’s advice, and hiding away his second pokebell. “Why don’t you give us one, and we’ll let you keep walking? You can make it all the way to Pewter City before giving up and going home. Your friend, old one-ball here, well . . . sorry to say, but doesn’t look like he has much to offer, anyway.”

Bruce blushed slightly, reaching down to grip his pokeball, glancing sidelong at Reed - nervous. Reed, meanwhile, spat on the ground - giving it enough reach to make it several feet in front of him. “Or, alternatively, you can piss right off to whatever gutter you crawled out of.”

The man who’d last spoke growled under his breath. “Watch the hurtful words, kid. It’s four against two. You really think you’re ready to take on two trainers in a row?”

“You’re math is kinda shit, big guy,” Haden’s gravely voice came from the treeline, as he and Donnel stepped out - pokeballs in hand. Haden wore both of his pokeballs on his belt, while Donnel only had the one - Reed knew that there was a second in pack, just like Bruce. “It’s four on four. How lucky are you lot feeling?”

 

The joke was starting to feel a lot less funny to the four ambushers, as they squared off - each picking the partner they’d battle. Each of them thumbed a button on their watch. The trainer that squared off with Reed was a wirey, bearded man. Reed thought that he looked like a goat. 

“Two, eh? You’ve been busy. Fine. We’ll go with two.” He pressed some buttons on the watch. Reed’s own watch began to vibrate. Glancing doing at it, a small screen read three simple words. “Locked in battle.” Fifteen seconds passed in unbearable silence, as each combatant readied his pokeballs. Haden was getting ready for a two vs two. Donnell and Bruce were each only using one. So he and Haden were the only ones in true danger. He’d expected to be terrified. But somehow, there was a serene calm over him. The roar of two Elite speeders sounded overhead, and the chrome vehicles crashed downward through branches, landing at the edge of the clearing. Reed had seen pictures before of old-world helicopters. The speeders struck him as similar, though lacking in the obvious blades and much more rounded in design. Two enforcers stepped out of each, circling the spot where the battles were going to take place. 

One of them moved close to Reed and his opponent, each lantern-jawed and bulky. “Challenger wagers two pokemon. Begin combat at the count of five.” 

Reed didn’t remember hearing the countdown. Blood pounded in his heart, the beating threatening to deafen him. All he saw was his opponent throwing, and him throwing in-kind. A beautiful butterfly sprung out, pale wings and purple body. From his own throw came Okie. The butterfly didn’t hesitate, flying up and beginning to spray a crystalline dust from its wings. It wasn’t fast enough. It wasn’t even close. Okie was a scrapper, slinking and sprinting around the battlefield. It left with remarkable grace, tackling the butterfly in mid-air, dragging it down. 

His opponent swore. He didn’t understand the word. Didn’t have time to think. But he heard it all the same. Heard the fear in it. He’d been expecting an easy mark. Next came a rattata. Like Okie, but longer in body, older. He didn’t hesitate. He pulled Okie back, throwing Brax forward. The machop burst out of the ball, thankfully flaccid after the events of the night before. He aimed a kick at the rat, which managed to dodge out of the way. Once, twice. It couldn’t get a move in. Finally, on the third, it got greedy - moving in to bite. Brax caught it on the jaw instead, sending it sprawling. 

He didn’t even realize the battle was over, until Brax came to him, gripping him gently by the arm and looking up at him. The Goat was on his knees, shell-shocked, stunned that this had gone so poorly for him. To his left, Haden’s battle was over as well. The opponent had used bug pokemon as well. The smoldered on the floor of the clearing, Haden’s charmander pressing its face into his knee. 

To his right was a different story. Donnel’s own pidgey was laid out, beaten by a strange rock-like pokemon - a little sphere with arms. And Bruce’s mankey, Kyne, had been similarly overpowered - another butterfree having managed to paralyze it with the same powder that had almost been used on Okie. Apparently, Kyne wasn’t fast enough. 

The other two had lost. 

“Match complete,” called the enforcer who had been supervising Haden’s match. “Double fatality in favor of the challenged.” He turned to the trainer, the young man who’d lured them there in the first place. “Do you have any pokemon remaining?” The young man merely nodded - pulling another pokeball out to show the man. 

Reed didn’t even realizing that his own enforcer was speaking now. “Match complete. Double K.O. in favor of the challenged. Defeated pokemon classified as C-rank.” The Goat was shaking slightly, as the enforcer stepped forward, removing the pokeballs from his hands. He didn’t try to stop him. “Pokemon will be taken into custody and destroyed. Do you have any pokemon remaining?” The Goat merely nodded, showing one ball as well. 

Reed felt his entire body go cold, as the enforcer slipped the pokeballs onto his own belt. Destroyed. C-rank pokemon, those considered useless to the elite, were destroyed. Killed. He’d just doomed two pokemon. That brought it up to three, now. He felt nauseous, helped in no part by the enforcer for Donnells’ round announcing the same result. C-rank. Destroyed. Donnell was crying. Reed wanted to go to him, but found that his legs wouldn’t move. 

“Do you have any pokemon remaining?” 

Donnell nodded. “B-but I . . . I want to turn them in. I want to go home.” 

The enforcer said nothing, holding out his hand. Donnell withdrew the pokeball from his pack, handing it to the man, and moving to his feet. To Donnel’s right, Bruce was already following suit. 

“I have one left too! Please, I don’t . . . I don’t want to do this anymore, I give up.” 

It was his rattata. The rattata he’d made service his mankey. Who could say what rank they would give to the poor thing? 

“Match complete,” the enforcer said, taking the pokeball from him. “K.O. in favor of the challenger. Defeated pokemon-” the brute stepped forward, withdrawing a spray from his belt - misting a green liquid over the mankey that allowed it to move again, clearing away the dust, “-is classified as a B rank. As such, it will be taken into custody and sterilized. The Elite shall find a use for it.” He turned to the man that had beaten Bruce. “As victor, it is to your discretion whether it shall be allowed final release, beforehand.”

The four challengers had certainly lost most of the wind from their sails, having watched two of their number be soundly thrashed. However, this question gave Bruce’s challenger a smirk. “Yeah, sure. Seems he earned it.” 

Reed didn’t know exactly what was happening, but he could tell that Bruce’s face had fallen. “But . . . but I used that rattata for that. Can’t I-”

The enforcer, to his credit, displayed no emotion about the situation at all. “If no pokemon is available, trainer will be responsible for honoring wishes of the victor. Please drop your trousers, and assume the position.”

Reed realized, in that terrible moment, what was about to happen. He felt his jaw go slack, as he watched Bruce begin to fumble with the buttons on his pants, the same that Reed had felt so envious of not a day beforehand. He looked so much younger now, his face streaked with tears, his pants around his ankles like he was a little boy about to get a spanking. Donnell was looking away. Even the victors were looking away, unable to enjoy their gloating in the face of this debauchery. The enforcer pulled another spray from his belt, spraying it over Bruce’s backside - making him jump slightly. Kyne perked up, moving behind his former trainer, sniffing at him. Reed could see it between the creature’s legs. A fat little prick, maybe four inches long. The mankey gave another sniff, before clambering aboard, gripping Bruce by the waist. 

“N-no, wait, don’t let him-” 

The young man gave a pitiful howl, as he was breached, the mankey giving no mind to his comfort - pushing all the way in and rutting animal-like against him. Reed surged forward. “You bastards, you can’t-”

The enforcer that had overseen his own battle placed a hand in the center of his chest, stopping him in his tracks. “Interfering with a victor’s rite will be interpreted as an act of rebellion. Continue, and a battle may be necessary to pacify you.” 

Reed grit his teeth, wanting so badly to get Brax to tear the man apart, tear them all apart. Bruce continued to moan and whimper on the ground, until finally giving another high pitched whine, the mankey tensing for a moment, before finally slipping off of him - disappearing into light, into the pokeball in the enforcer’s hand. 

“All matches complete,’ another called out. “Will there be any further battles?” 

At first, the two victors turned their eyes to Reed and Haden. After seeing the fury boiling behind the young man’s eyes, the decided against it. The enforcers led Donnell and Bruce towards the speeders, Bruce having to be frog-marched as whitish goo dripped down his legs. Reed did not to after them. Once more, he felt like he couldn’t move.

Haden came to him, pulled him into a hug. Haden rubbed the back of his head, told him he could cry. Reed didn’t cry. He didn’t need to. He could hear Haden’s voice. 

“We need to keep moving. Pewter city is less than an hour away.”

He had to keep moving. Had to. 

He wondered, idly, about the rattata. Bruce’s. Would he lay awake at night? Would he remember what had happened to him? Would be think of it in more familiar terms? He wondered if Bruce had ever bothered to name it. 

He was certain that, in that moment, Bruce had named it. A name he’d take with him to the grave.


	5. Chapter Four: Broke Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reed and Haden confront the first of eight Testing Centers, and Brax proves himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm really enjoying writing this, and I hope you guys are having fun too. It should be obvious at this point that I don't do much editing for this one - it's usually something that I cram into my day, then get eager to share. If there is anything particularly egregious, please let me know - either on here, or through my tumblr (despairlocke dot tumblr) - and I'll try to get it fixed.
> 
> As always, if you wanna read more, let me know. Comments, kudos, it's all appreciated.

CHAPTER 4: BROKE DOWN

Six Days, Four Hours Since Pallet Town

The air in Pewter City tasted foul. Reed had never known how much he took the fresh, salty air of Pallet Town for granted until he came here, tasted the dust in the air - the byproduct of the Elite’s extensive mining operations. The city never went dark, never went quiet. The lights from the operations in the nearby mountains blared into the night sky in the distances, and trucks moved back and forth from sites to distribution centers within the city limits at all hours. In the few moments of quiet that he’d encountered since arriving, he could still hear the hum of mining equipment in the distance. 

The place gave him a mild headache at all times, but that was far enough down on his list of concerns that it barely seemed worth mentioning. He and Haden had set up camp on the edge of the city, having scouted around as best they could before descending briefly within the city limits for food and information. Pewter City had their first stop in the Grand Tour - the Pewter City Testing Center. They’d managed to glean that the leader there was named Brock, that he was actually a local to the city before becoming an Elite. Meaning he must have been a prior victor in one of the earlier Grand Tours. Someone who made it all the way to the Elite. 

 

Reed’s stomach hurt. He’d never felt this nervous. Haden was in a nearby clearing, training with his Charmander. The lizard had learned how to accurately spit its fire, though it couldn’t maintain a steady stream yet. It’s claws had been sharpened enough to carve large chunks from the trees, even leaving deep grooves on a few rocks. It was ready. 

He palmed Brax’s pokeball, staring at it. He wondered if his own ally was ready. He’d had a hard time looking at the creature after having his ‘needs’ explained. The grey-skinned pokemon would likely become like Bruce’s mankey, soon. Aggressive, hard to control, needy. But what could he do? He wasn’t going to subject Okie to something like that. 

“I think we should be the ones to challenge the testing center first,” Haden said, moping some sweat from his brow, as his charmander slumped over a nearby rock, laying on its belly and relaxing. 

Reed wanted to argue, but couldn’t find the words. He nodded. 

“You’re scared. I get that.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, I mean . . .” Haden growled, reaching up to scratch the back of his head, pulling out a cigarette. He’d avoided smoking them as much as he could in the past few days, but it was obvious that his nerves were acting up as well. “It’s fine. I am too. We both should be. You know, there’s no shame if you want to give up. You need to know that.”

“I’m not-”

“I mean it, kid. If you feel like you need to, if you have even the slightest inkling - do it. Do it before you no longer have the opportunity. Okay?”

Reed didn’t answer. Haden sighed, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Rest up. We’ll go in when the sun starts to set.”

Reed clutched the pokeball holding Brax a little closer to his chest. 

\- - - -

Six Days, 11 Hours Since Pallet Town

The testing center was an enormous building made of steel and glass - far more opulent than anything else in the dingy mining town. Even still, it was stained with the same dust as the rest of the town - a thick layer of dirt caking over the massive windows. The entrance was up a large flight of stone stairs, opening up into a courtyard with benches and a few dead plants that had likely originally been planted for scenery, but had been allowed to fall into disrepair. It was late in the afternoon when Reed and Haden arrived, and the place had already been cleared out. Reed felt a familiar nervous fluttering in his stomach, staring at the sliding doors flanked on either side by Elite enforcers. 

“One challenger at a time,” one of them growled, holding up an arm to block their passage. Reed muttered under his breath, but Haden shushed him. 

“Fine. I’ll be going in first, then.” He turned, giving a small grin to Reed.  
“Wish me luck, kid?”

The surprise on his face was obvious, as his nephew closed the distance between them and hugged him tightly. “You got this,” he whispered. Haden nodded, patting him on his head. 

“Yeah. I got this.”

\- - - -

Six Days, 11.5 Hours Since Pallet Town

Reed was surprised at how insulated the testing center was. The battle had to have started by now, but he couldn’t hear a thing from within the courtyard. He’d read in his guidebook that Testing Centers were encouraged to focus on one or two types of Pokeon, to build a specialization. He wondered what kind this one had chosen. Wondered what it was that Haden was facing. 

\- - - -

Six Days, 13 Hours Since Pallet Town

The sun was starting to set in over the hills, bathing the entire city in orange and reds, a rich pallet that set the hills ablaze. Reed barely noticed them. His heart was stuck in his throat. Breathing was becoming harder and harder. 

\- - - -

Six Days, 15 Hours Since Pallet Town

The trainers that worked within the Pewter City Testing Center were, by a large, Elites - usually of low rank who’d been born into the position by way of family, or drafted in after family member of spouse won their way in during the tour. Once inducted, a Grand Tour winner was given the option of elevating ten people within their family or friend group along with them. Many forgot immediately the struggles that they’d endured prior to their elevation, if they were even old enough to remember the time before. They came from the Testing Center as a group of three, dressed to look like stageplay versions of the miners that populated the town proper. The same wife-beaters, towels around their shoulders, head-lamps - all new and untouched, rather than torn and stained by earth and sweat. The tallest among them, a brunette with closely-cropped hair, was teasing a shorter comrade, shoving him slightly with a hand on his shoulder. They barely saw the slight, disheveled young man who stepped out to block their path.

“Move aside, kid. Gym’s closed.” It was the tallest one, the obvious leader. 

Reed tried not to let his voice shake. Tried to make his tone as low and threatening as possible.

“What about the challengers still inside?”

“Challengers? Ain’t nobody left inside. Everyone who entered today lost. Move aside,” said a muscular man, slightly older and shorter than the tall trainer. 

“Last one in was some old guy, but Brock thrashed him. If you want the same treatment, you’ll have to wait until tom-”

 

Reed pushed the ice in his stomach down, buried it in rage. 

“Where is he? The man who lost. Is he in there?”

“Look, kid,” the tall trainer stepped forward again, glowering, “if you don’t want to get hurt, I’d suggest-”

All three stopped in their tracks immediately, as Reed let both of his pokeballs roll down his forearm and into his palm. The shortest gave a nervous chuckle. 

“You serious, kid? You know who you’re dealing with? You fuck with us, we’ll take your pokemon, we’ll make sure you spend the rest of your life-”

Again, Reed interrupted. “You can either step aside, or call your Pokemon, because I’m done talking.”

A twitch ran across the tall trainer’s face. He stepped ahead of the other two. “So you got two, right? Fine.” He pressed a button on his watch. One of the enforcers that had stood guard earlier stepped out from within the center, moving towards them. 

“There was a match declared?”

“Yeah. Someone needs to teach this mouthy trash to respect his betters.” The tall trainer moved his gaze to Reed, sizing him up appreciatively. “Bet the miners will love having you around, eh?” 

Reed didn’t hear him. Didn’t hear the enforcer reading off his usual pre-match speech. All he heard was the blood pounding in his veins, a shattering roar that was building in the deepest part of himself and threatening to burst forth at any moment. Haden was still inside. If he could get in, he could stop this. He could save him. He had to save him. 

The tall trainer sent out his pokemon, a small mouse-looking creature, brown and covered in what appeared to be plating running down its back. Reed sent out Okie. He didn’t hear what he shouted when he did, but the mouse moved quickly - using its speed to dart under a claw and headbutt the creature in the stomach, biting at its exposed neck. The pokemon pushed it away,but not before a good bit landed - the trainer had to recall it, he had no choice. He returned Okie as well. This was never supposed to be his fight. Brax emerged, meeting a familiar, spherical stone. Reed had looked this one up. A geodude. A powerful defensive pokemon, with a significant flaw.

“Brax. Karate chop.” Brax had immense strength, and an innate talent at locating structrual weakpoints in hard surfaces. He landed a single blow, dead center on the geodude. The creature shattered before him. 

“What the hell!? How dare you, you stupid little-”

Another trainer was already stepping up to take the tall one’s place, intending to avenge his comrade. It didn’t matter to Reed. He’d beat them all. Brax could tear them apart, he was certain of it. All they would accomplish was wasting his time, time he didn’t have. 

A voice, low and rough, called out across the courtyard. 

“Enough!”

Reed hadn’t seen him leave the Testing Center, had no idea what he was supposed to look like. But somehow, he knew instantly who the trainer approaching them was. He walked with purpose, carried himself with utmost confidence. The trainers who had challenged him stepped out of the way immediately, clearing a path for him to walk. Even the enforcer, in the middle of his post-battle pronouncements, went silent. Brock. Leader of the Pewter City Testing Center. A true, earned member of the elite. When he looked at Reed, there was none of the disgust that he’d come to expect. Just stoic and severe. 

He was dark-skinned, and athletic. His clothes, in contrast to those worn by those under his command, were stained and worn. There was a tiredness in his eyes, betraying the practiced confidence that he carried himself with.

“What’s going on here?” The question was addressed to Reed. One of his underlings attempted to cut in - though he went silent, with a single raised finger from his leader. 

“The older man, the one who challenged you last? Where is he?”

A slight roll of Brock’s shoulders. When he spoke, his voice lacked even the slightest hint of mirth. “He was defeated. All of his pokemon. As the Grand Tour stipulates, his pokemon and his freedom were confiscated thereafter. If you were close - a relative, a friend - then I apologize. It would be in your best interest to forget about him.” 

Reed squared his shoulders. “I’m only going to ask one more time. No platitudes, no taunts, just tell me where the hell he is.”

Brock was quiet for a moment, before shaking his head. “Just so we’re clear - it’s inadvisable to threaten a Testing Center Overseer. It could misfire spectacularly for you.”

He reached down, unhooking two pokeballs from his belt. “Two on two. It was always going to come to this, anyway. You win, I tell you where he is.”

Reed’s palms sweat. He felt like he might vomit at any moment. He didn’t hesitate. As Brock signaled the start of the battle with his watch, he threw out his hand. Brax had never been returned to his ball, and needed no further encouragement. Brock’s barely bothered to throw his pokeball, letting it roll down his palm and slide onto the ground, another geodude appearing. The laconic gesture belied just how fast the creature moved, immediately sinking its hands into the stone floor of the courtyard - digging up two chunks of rock as if they were sank - throwing one sharp stone and then the other in the direction of the machop. 

Brax didn’t bother dodging, swatting each rock aside as it charged, leaping into the air then falling forward, driving a knee directly into the geodude’s center. This geodude was stronger. It didn’t shatter at the impact. All the same, it was knocked out cold, unable to move after the severe blow. Brax hopped backwards from it, dropping into a fighting stance, bouncing on his heels. 

If Brock was surprised, he didn’t show it. “A machop is a pretty rare pokemon. I’m going to assume its your starter. I can’t say I’m surprised that you made it this far. I’m sorry for what comes next.” He held his second pokeball up, dropping it without ceremony. 

If Reed had been in his own right mind, he might have noticed the other trainers fleeing backwards, might have noticed that even the enforcer had backed away. From the ball, a blinding flash of light. Then, coiling in the center of the courtyard, a giant stone serpent - its body a series of stones held together through some unknowable magic or science. Lacking in uniformity, the stones looked rough and worn, like the creature was ancient. When it roared, Reed could feel his chest vibrate. 

Brax glanced over its shoulder only once. Reed locked eyes with it, then turned to Brock. In the clearest voice he could manage, he called out, “Tear it apart!”

Brax moved without hesitation, leaping over the snake’s whipping tail, vaulting over the center of its body, and turning to punch into its back. The creature roared, striking out, throwing its head down at the machop and barely missing it as it dodged of the way. The creature dug into the stone then, its head jerking and dislodging chunks of it - kicking it up and out into a barrage of pointed rocks. Brax didn’t try to knock them from the air a second time. He rolled to the side, picking himself up just in time to see the creature charging him - knocking aside and crumbling benches in its wake.  
“Onix, use Stone Edge!’ The first words that Brock had said the whole fight. 

“Focus, Brax!” The machop dropped into a fighting stance against. Its muscles tensed visibly, a faint glow building at its hands and feet. It waited, letting the Onix come to it. At the last moment, as the pokemon barreled towards it, it pivoted, turning with its hips, extending its leg into a kick directly into the center of the Onix’s charging forehead. A spark. The energy around the machop’s arms and legs glowing blinding in an instant, before the Onix was lifted from the ground, its momentum redirected. It spiraled upwards before crashing down - an impact that the whole city would likely hear. It twitched for a moment and then, finally, went still.

Reed’s whole body was shaking. His heart felt like it might burst. He was blank. Didn’t know what to say, or to do. Brax came to his side, limping slightly - putting no weight on the foot it had used to kick into the Onix. It gripped him by the forearm, gently. 

“Loading Dock G49. They’ll likely have him on a transport by now, but if you hurry you might make it. Their will be enforcers nearby, with many strong pokemon. But if anyone was going to imagine it, I’d imagine it was you.”

Brock was staring at him, looking at him in a way that Reed couldn’t remember anyone ever looking at him. Respect. Perhaps even a touch of awe.

He gave a slowly, shaky nod, before barreling down the stairs and out of the courtyard, ignoring the trilling of his watch letting him know that he’d just earned his first mark of recognition, of the eight he’d need to enter Victory Road. He ran with every last ounce of effort he had - Brax following him, ignoring the pain in its leg. He ran until his lungs burned, ran until his feet bloodied. He knew where the loading docks were, had seen them when he’d scouted with Haden. Haden. His uncle. The only one who understood him, the one who’d tried to talk him out of this whole mess. He’d save him, he’d have to save him. 

He reached the fenceline for the long line of loading docks. The sun was gone, the night still fresh and hot from the day before. An engine roared nearby. He could see it. 49. The transport lifted into the air slowly, lumbering under the weight of its harvest. Reed shouted, tears forming at his eyes. Sobbed, clawed at the fenceline. The transport lifted up higher, rotated slowly in air. Then, a deep ‘chuff’ noise. And it shot out, blurred light against the night sky. A streak of red and gold against black. Reed fell to his knees. In the deepest part of his mind, so far back that he’d never known, never comprehend that it was that - a thought occured. The sight, in that moment, was beautiful. 

\- - - -

10 Days, 14 Hour Since Pallet Town

Reed didn’t know how long he’d been lying there. How long it had been since he’d stumbled back to the camp that he and Haden had set up, since he’d fallen onto his sleeping back. Time didn’t seem to matter here. It was all a dull routine. He’d stumble from the tent to relieve himself, then stumble back. Brax, who had never returned to his pokeball, would bring him some kind of food that his simple mind had been able to forage - usually berries and nuts. He’d wash himself in a nearby stream in the early morning, then return to the tent. He’d sleep. He’d dream. He’d wake, and Brax would rub his back until he returned to sleep. 

He’d underestimated the pokemon. Thought it a very smart animal, when perhaps the truth was that it was closer to a somewhat dim, well-meaning person. Once, he’d heard it fight off what sounded like a beedrill from the campsite. No one bothered them up here, otherwise. His eyes hurt. He didn’t know how much longer he could live like this. But the thought of forward motion was overbearing. 

He could hear a sound outside the tent. A wet sound, slapping. He rose from the sleeping bag, sliding clumsily across it and sticking his torso out of the tent. Brax sat at the edge of the long-dead campfire, hand around his grey member, pumping it. His eyes were closed, expression thoughtful. Reed wondered what pokemon thought about, when they did this. If anything at all. A slight rustle of the tent flap, and Brax noticed him - immediately looking sheepish, tucking its muscular leg up and using it to cover itself, moving its hands away. It stared down at the ground, grunting what sounded like an apology. 

He realized that it must think he disapproved of the behavior - after how he’d interacted last time. Brax has saved his life. Had been the whole reason he was even able to start on this path. He stared at the machop, for only a moment. He needed one decent thing. One thing to make everything - his body, his mind, his heart - stop hurting. He swallowed. He’d never force Okie to do this. He’d never abide that kind of cruelty.

“N-no. It’s . . . it’s okay. Come here.”

Brax looked hesitant for a moment, before pushing itself up and approaching him, staring down at him where he sat. Its manhood was still hard, about five inches of erect grey prick. Somewhat fat, but not especially so. Foreskin wrapped around it, pulled back slightly to expose the pink head. The scent was primal and unwashed. 

Reed looked up at him. His eyes were red, tired. Still, he hoped the expression was clear. The question. Was this okay?” He reached out slowly, carefully wrapping his fingers around the machop’s cock. Brax’s whole body tensed, and his cock twitched, but he made no expressions of discomfort. It felt warm within his hand. He leaned forward, inhaling the scent again, before carefully guiding the thing into his mouth. 

The taste was salty, somewhat unpleasant. He didn’t care. He flicked his tongue over the head, wrapped his lips tightly around the shaft, and bobbed slowly - carefully. He’d never done this before, and wanted to avoid getting his teeth anywhere they shouldn’t be. The machop reached out, hands gently brushing through his trainer’s hair. His breathing grew a little heavier, small grunts and sharp intakes of breath coming from him as Reed sucked at him, wetting his prick. 

Even not knowing what he was doing, Reed knew that the machop wouldn’t last long from this. He pulled away, letting the now-dripping cock slip from his lips with a pop. He stared up at Brax again, face flushed, cheeks red with embarrassment. He wanted one more thing. He didn’t know why. Was disgusted with himself, hated the part of himself that wanted it. And even still, he reached behind himself with trembling hands, turning his hips so that the machop could see him pulled the back of his pants down - pulling them over his rump to expose his firm cheeks, before crawling into the tent and laying on his side. 

Brax was smart enough, indeed. He crawled slowly in after him, rubbing gently with his hands, positioning himself behind his trainer. He was as gentle as he could be - guiding the plump head of his cock to Reed’s virgin entrance. He pressed once, eliciting a gasp and whine of pain from his partner. The machop stopped. Let it rest there, let it warm him. He pushed again, another gasp, no whine. A little further in. Let it sit. Let it wait. A hand came around, hugging Reed, holding him close. Another press. Reed cried out. The head popped inside, and the machop sank forward, sank in.

Reed wanted to tell him to stop, wanted to take this all back, wanted to be back in home in his town before any of this. But he bit into the sleeping bag, instead. Brax held him, held still, stroked his chest softly, before beginning to move into his rut. Long, gentle thrusts - moving his cock within something for the first time. He didn’t last long. His breathing got heavier, grunts more urgent. Reed sank a hand into the front of his trousers, still clinging there, and began to stroke. The machop sank deeper. Warmth began to spread inside of him, as he filled the front of his underwear with his own spunk. He gave a quiet sigh, closing his eyes, feeling the machop occasionally twitch within him, giving him another burst of seed to push the rest a little deeper inside. 

They’d leave the next day. Right now, he just wanted to stay here. To stay in this moment, and commit it to memory. Something told him that he wouldn’t have many good memories to come.


	6. Chapter Five: All Things In Their Proper Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reed builds his own team, and encounters another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm really enjoying writing this, and I hope you guys are having fun too. It should be obvious at this point that I don't do much editing for this one - it's usually something that I cram into my day, then get eager to share. If there is anything particularly egregious, please let me know - either on here, or through my tumblr (despairlocke dot tumblr) - and I'll try to get it fixed.
> 
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CHAPTER 5: ALL THINGS IN THEIR PROPER PLACE

 

11 Days, 6 Hours Since Pallet Town

Reed had kept Brax inside of his ball all day. He was having trouble looking at the Pokemon, after what he’d allowed it to do the day before. That wasn’t quite right, though. It wasn’t what he’d allowed. It was what he’d wanted. What he’d invited. And it had felt good, better than he’d expected. The warm glow had lasted just as long as it took him to slip from the tent, to step into the night air and squat in the grass away from the campsite - pushing the gooey machop seed out of himself. That was when the shame had started. The hot embarrassment burning in his cheeks. 

He’d done his best to cover up the slight limp he’d experienced the next morning, stopping by one of the checkpoints on his way out of Pewter City. In truth, he’d welcome the rush of humiliation. It was better than thinking about Haden. Better than continuing to acutely feel his absence. The checkpoint had been generous, giving him three pokeballs for his journey to the next city over. He palmed one of them, letting his mind drift to the day before. How it had felt when Brax had taken him. The machop had been remarkable gentle, had let him make all the first moves. He wondered if a human lover would have done the same. Then, the realization that he’d allowed a Pokemon to take his virginity struck him, and he returned to attempting to think of anything else. 

He heard the snap of the twig behind him, his reflexes just sharp enough to send him stepping to the side as a tan ball of fur and muscles flew past him, leg extended, landing against a tree before turning to face him again. He recognized the creature immediately. A mankey. Like the kind that Bruce had had - though this one struck him as a bit older, a bit of paunch on its form. Clearly, whatever it was eating up in these hills was plentiful. It growled at him, giving a screech, before charging. No time to worry about being awkward around Brax now, he was releasing the machop’s pokeball and dodging to the side in one motion. The grey-skinned pokemon emerged, throwing a kick at the mankey’s legs as it flew from its ball, knocking the creature on its front.. 

The mankey was clearly surprised by the resistance it was facing, perhaps expecting the human to be defenseless. It rolled forward, attempting to put some distances between it and Brax before rising to its feet. Brax did not give it the opportunity, instead moving forward to grip it by its arm, spinning the surprised creature around and throwing it into a nearby tree. Reed knew an opportunity when he saw it. The mankey was stunned for a few seconds, and that was all he needed. He threw the pokeball he’d been holding earlier, striking the creature in its side and drawing it inside. The ball shook violently for a few seconds, before relenting. 

Reed exhaled audibly, sinking against a tree. He wasn’t sure how he felt about training a mankey, the creature summoning bad memories to-mind. But he wasn’t about to allow himself any amount of weakness. He walked to the ball, slipping it onto his belt. “Niklos,” he said, under his breath. “Your name is Niklos.”

He looked up. Brax was still out of his ball, staring at him. The creature looked at his eyes, before looking down, kicking a stone with his foot. Perhaps he was embarrassed too. A twitch of guilt. He always underestimate how smart Brax was, how in-tune he was with Reed’s own feelings. Reed sighed once, stepping forward, wrapping his arms around the machop’s shoulders and pulling him close.

“Thank you. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

\- - - -

11 Days, 8 Hours Since Pallet Town

Reed had been grateful when they found a stream a few hours later, happy to get the chance to wash off and refill his canteen. He’d been disappointed then to find that it was running black, this close to the mines. He’d decided to take the moment to rest regardless, perching himself in the shade of a large tree and leaning back, listening to the sound of the dirty water rushing nearby. Mt. Moon was close. It was the best option he had for proceeding - some trainers he’d met at the checkpoint had been talking about a series of tunnels that ran right through the mountain, that were rarely used and could be utilized to circumvent any hostile trainers that might be lying in-wait. He thought about pulling one of his pokemon from their balls. Perhaps Okie, with his soft fur that would feel nice to pet idly for a moment or two. Perhaps Brax, to-

He screwed up his eyes, a look of distaste at his own wandering thoughts, pushing them from his mind and contenting himself to simply ‘be’. It was something that everyone who’d grown up in Pallet Town had had to learn. How to be satisfied with simply existing for a few moments, to recenter oneself and move forward. He thought back to his days there. Fishing for seven hours a day, then returning to a home cramped with family. Overflowing with warmth. Whatever happened from here on out, those days were behind him. For better or worse. 

“Hoy! You there!”

He cracked an eye open, instinctively reaching a hand down to his belt. The area next to the stream was fairly sparse, a clear opening where the ground was mostly made up of smooth river stones, the area where the water would spread to when the strong annual rains would come. Across this clearing, standing at the opposite treeline, were three men. They looked to Reed to be just a few years old than him, in their mid-twenties. He rose slowly to his feet. 

 

“Not looking for any trouble,” he called out, sizing them up, wondering if he’d be able to beat all three of them back-to-back. 

“Neither are we.” As they stepped forward, he realized they were telling the truth. Their trainer watches were gone. He let his posture relax slightly, though he kept his hands close to Brax’s pokeball.

“What can I do for you?”

“We, uh-” As they got closer, he realized how disheveled they looked. Their clothes were torn, scrapes and cuts on their dirty skin. One man had lost a shoe at some point, and his bare foot was bloody. “We just wanted to warn you. If you’re going up towards the mountain, towards Cerulean - you need to turn back now. Team Rocket had set up a post there, waiting for trainers to pass through.”

Reed said nothing, though his expression must have betrayed his confusion. 

“You know who Team Rocket is, right?”

Reed rolled his shoulders, embarrassed to be caught in his ignorance. “Lemme guess, some group of wannabe trainers who’ve allied together, thinking it’ll give them an edge over the rest of us?”

The three men glanced nervously at each other, before one of them spoke. “Points for effort, at least. Team Rocket are . . . well, let’s just say that not all Elites are big on the Tour. Some of them think that folk like us, we overstep our bounds by trying to become them. Their motto’s something like, er, “things go-”

“All things in their proper place. By carrot, or by lash.” One of his associates finished for him, his tone somber.

“Right. That’s about how it goes. They travel in packs or ten or so, usually. They find small groups of trainers - people by themselves, if they can, and all challenge them one after another. They even pay an enforcer to go around with them, so it’s all official. Guess they found out that people use the mountain pass up ahead on the Tour quite a bit, so they decided to post up there.”

“I see,” Reed reached up, scratching the side of his head. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll keep my head down.”

“We’re serious, stranger. If you go up there, you’ll be inviting more misfortune on yourself than you can handle. Come with us. If you surrender your pokemon to an enforcer, at least you’ll be able to go home on your own terms.”

Reed shook his head. It was time to move on. “I’m serious too. If there’s one thing I’m getting a handle on out here, it’s dealing with misfortune. Good luck to you.” He pushed onward towards the tree line, leaving the men to watch his retreating form - wondering if they might say anything to try and change his mind. They were silent as they watched him leave.

\- - - -

11 Days, 12 Hours Since Pallet Town

At first, Reed had thought it was a rock. When it sprang to life and began to throw nearby stones at his head, he’d been forced to revise that initial impression - ducking behind a tree and freeing Brax from his ball. He moved with the same practiced determination that he had in the Testing Center - knocking each stone aside with the back of his hand. The geodude was skilled, a few of his throws catching the machop off-guard - glancing blows against his thighs, his shoulder. The machop eventually managed to close the distance, thumping the creature on the head with an open palm - hard enough to daze it, but not hard enough to cause any real damage. Reed saw his second opportunity, throwing a pokeball at the creature - capturing it after two indignant rattles of the device. He approached it cautiously. It seemed his past was being dragged out to haunt him. If mankey was associated with poor memories, geodude was associated with genuine trauma. Still, that wasn’t the pokemon’s fault. He picked up its ball.

“Regis. Good name, yeah?” He glanced at Brax, who nodded and grinned. He saw the machop’s groin plumping up a bit. It was so hard not to look at it now. Before, he’d simply grown accustomed to it. It had been normal. Now, his eyes were drawn to it. Brax saw where his eyes were going, reaching down to touch himself, giving a questioning look to his trainer. Reed felt his stomach clench, and his mouth water. He took a small step forward, before a cry sounded - maybe half a mile away. It was a young male voice, one laden with terror. Reed’s jerked his head in the direction of the scream. It came again. He glanced at Brax, nodding once, before taking off.

This close-up, the mountain seemed to dwarf him, to consume the whole sky. He was right at the base now, and as he barreled through the trees, he realized that the scream had come from direction of the mountain itself. Whoever it was, they must have been trying to enter one of the tunnels that went under the mountain. He moved as fast as his feet could carry him, Brax keeping up admirably behind. Finally, he came to the edge of the trees as the clearing beneath the mountain opened up, skidding to a halt and ducking behind one of the trunks, intending to take a look at his odds before jumping in head-first. 

The clearing was bare, save for a few large stones that were roughly Reed’s own height. Confirming his suspicions, a shaft opened into the side of the mountain - small enough so that two men walking shoulder-to-shoulder might fit inside, but not much else. Sitting against one of the rocks, pressed up against it as tightly as he could, was a young woman about Reed’s age. Slight build, short - dirty-blond hair a tangled mop falling over her forehead. A few feet away from her, looming above him, was a man perhaps a few years older. He had the built of a sportsman, his hair cropped neatly, his uniform crisp black and red, military-styled. And a few feet away from him, an enforcer - looking a touch disinterested with the proceedings. The girl’s face was streaked with tears. 

“Please, please let me go. I don’t want to fight, I’ll surrender my pokemon!” She called out pointedly to the enforcer this time. “Please! I said I’ll surrender my pokemon.”

The enforcer ignored her.

“I’m afraid that’s not how it works, kiddo,” the uniformed boy said, tossing a pokeball in the air. “See, you got just a little too big for your britches. And now you’re going to pay for it. Once I press this button,” he gestured to his watch, “your pokemon and mine are going to have a little dance. When that’s done, you and I will have a long, long time to get to know each other better. Sounds fun, eh?” 

The girl tucked her head, shaking slightly. 

“Heh. They always have more bark than bite, don’t-”

The man’s voice died in his throat, as his watch beeped red. The sign that a challenge had been wagered. “What the-? I didn’t press it.”

“I did.” Reed stepped into the clearing, a pokeball in his own hand. He sized the Team Rocket Goon up, for he was sure that that was who the man was. “You’ve got three, yeah? Then I wager three.”

“Filthy upstart,” the man growled, turning on his heel. “Who the hell do you think you are? Do you have any idea the sort of fight you’re picking?”

Reed looked past him at the girl. “Run into the woods. They won’t find you there.” The girl stared at him for only a moment, before nodding, taking off past him. The Rocket Grunt moved to step past him, but Reed moved to block his path. “You forgetting something?”

The man growled again, this time holding a pokeball up, brandishing it at him. “You little nothing. You cost me a good score. When I beat you, I’m having them chop your balls off and feed them to you.”

He threw. Reed did as well. A sandshrew emerged on the field, followed by Regis, the geodude. Reed had the utmost faith that Brax could handle anything this ass might throw at him, so it wasn’t a bad time to test the limits of his new team members. 

The stone pokemon rolled forward, shaking off the lights of its emergence from the pokeball. It glanced over what passed for its shoulder at him, slamming each fist down into the earth and nodding at him. The sandshrew rolled itself into a ball, charging forward. The geodude noticed it at the last moment, throwing itself up into the air, letting the Sandshrew roll past harmlessly. As it turned, sliding in a crescent and coming back around, the geodude fall down - holding its hands above its head and slamming them into the ground on impact, launching the sandshrew up into the air with the concussive force. It didn’t waste any time, gripping two nearby stones and throwing them into the sandshrew’s airborne form. When it came back to earth, it was unconscious. 

“Damn it!” The Rocket Grunt snarled, withdrawing it, before sending out a new pokemon. Regis returned to his side, waiting for instructions. 

“Wait here,” he said, simply, before throwing the next ball. Onto the battlefield came a zubat, followed by Niklos. The mankey seemed confused at first, throwing its limbs again, screeching and hopping. Its eyes settled on Reed, narrowed, before it shook its head violently - turning to face its enemy. The momentary distraction cost it - the zubat swooping down, catching it in the side with a barbed wing, then swinging back up again. 

The mankey stumbled, shaking its head. It charged after the flying creature. Where Brax was all composed, careful movements, the mankey was all animal instinct and rage - charging, clawing at the air. The zubat was faster. It dive-bombed its opponent - striking it, then flying out of reach. The mankey couldn’t focus, couldn't’ compose itself and wait for an opening. It was getting battered. Even worse, it was getting exhausted. 

Seeing the Grunt grinning over at him, Reed could only grit his teeth. “Regis, switch out with him!” The geodude rolled forward, as the mankey turned into light and returned to its ball with a roar of indignation at having its battle interrupted. The geodude was accustomed to slow-moving, it seemed. It waited for an opening, letting the zubat swoop down to it it. The barb bounced harmlessly off of its rocky skin, and it landed a stone directly in the center of the bat as it turned to fly back up. The pokemon dropped, unconscious as well. Two down, one to go.

“F-fuck, you . . . g-go, rattata!” 

Reed grinned. The Grunt was out of pokemon. This was his last ditch effort, his beta pokemon. He tapped Brax’s ball. The machop emerged, bursting into life next to the rattata and gripping it by the tail, lifting it up and punting it towards its trainer, the mouse rolling across the clearing and landing at its trainer’s feet. The match was over. 

“There, now. How about you return to whatever posh tower you came from and contemplate how badly you lost today?”

He’d never felt this confident. Team Rocket, talked about as if they were the boogeyman. He’d beaten one. He’d taken one of the Elite, and rubbed the man’s own flagrant lack of superiority in his face. 

The Grunt was turning red from fury, but he said nothing - his face contorting into something between a grimace and a grin. “Just you wait, you little shit. You’ll get yours.” 

Reed remembered then. What the others had said. Team Rocket traveled in packs. He could hear them. Several sets of shouts and footsteps, not too far away. He’d won this fight handily, but there was no way that his team could handle much more. If they could him here, they could challenge him one-by-one. He could lose. And they clearly weren’t in the business of letting their opponent surrender gracefully. He returned Brax to his pokeball, before starting to move towards the mine shaft. 

“What’s the matter, eh? Lost your nerve!?” The grunt called after him. “Where’d all your bravery go, eh? Stay awhile, boy, I promise it will be illuminating!” 

Reed didn’t listen to him. He wasn’t ready to end this. He wasn’t ready to lose. He didn’t have time to think. He moved from a brisk walk to a run, throwing himself into the opening, sliding down the incline of the mine shaft, disappearing into cool, silent darkness.


End file.
